


In Silence

by Lithium012



Category: VIXX
Genre: Blind Character, Deaf Character, Disability, Fluff and Smut, M/M, blind wonshik, deaf taekwoon, im sorry, really bad smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 16:18:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15867234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lithium012/pseuds/Lithium012
Summary: A love story between a deaf Taekwoon and a Blind Wonshik. I'm sorry if this is bad.





	In Silence

**Author's Note:**

> For the meme-est kpopper I know.

**-I-**

The sound of a piano echoes through the empty hall and Wonshik is sure that no one should be here this late at night. Tapping his cane, he walks through the hall of the school he works at, listening and stalking the sound of music. His hands hover over a door, where he’s 100% sure the sounds are coming from. To be extra sure, he presses his ear against the door, listening closely.  

The distinct, haunting and melancholic sound of a piano echoes through, like thunder in a rainstorm. His hand rests on the doorknob, wanting to open it but at the same time, wishing the person playing wouldn’t stop. He opens the door after a good 10 minutes of standing outside and listening.

The piano playing doesn’t stop when the door opens, like it should, and Wonshik makes sure to stomp on his way over. He stands by the piano, asking, “Who are you and why are you here so late?” The piano continues to play, drowning out his voice. It’s as if the person didn’t even notice him.

“Excuse me!” Wonshik says again, this time louder. Maybe he simply couldn’t hear over the music playing. But no, the song continues to play, on and on and on. Though haunting (something that sounds like it belongs in a sad person’s music list) he couldn’t allow the song to continue, no matter how much he likes it. The janitors would be here soon, and they’d probably like to get home, much like how Wonshik wishes to go home.

His hand reaches out, flailing through the air a bit to find where that person is. His fingers connect with a soft material and firm backing, and the playing enters a screeching halt. It hurts Wonshik’s ears. The person’s arm jerks back and Wonshik can feel himself being thrown. He grounds himself and pauses, listening for the person’s heavy breathing. Wonshik looks up, scowling.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says. “You should go home.” The person doesn’t respond. _Is this guy rude or something?_ He hears hands smacking but no words. Blinking, he helps himself up, holding his cane close.

“Okay, I don’t know what you’re trying to say, but I’m telling you, you can’t be here!”

More hand smacking and Wonshik losing his temper.

“Seriously! Say something!”

“Taekwoon doesn’t… can’t speak,” someone new says. Wonshik turns his head towards the sound. Footsteps walk closer between the two men. “Wonshik can’t see, he doesn’t know what you’re saying.”

Frustrated hand smacking fills the room and someone – Taekwoon, perhaps – pushes past Wonshik, nearly sending him off balance. The door slams with a loud bang.

“I’m sorry about that,” Hakyeon says. “I’m going to touch your hand.” A soft, warm hand touches his, it’s like a warm blanket. “Taekwoon didn’t know you were blind.”

“I didn’t know… he was deaf,” Wonshik replies, feeling horrible about it all.

“Don’t be. Taekwoon doesn’t like it when people point it out.”

“Yeah,” Wonshik says. “Neither would I.” They stay in silence for a moment before Hakyeon asks if Wonshik needs some help getting home. He doesn’t but he appreciates the offer. If it was anyone else, he’d tell them off. He waves goodbye at Hakyeon (he finds out the next morning that he waved at a tree) and walks towards his home, a route he memorized for years, feeling the sun beating down on his face.

**-II-**

The piano plays through the empty hallways again the very next day when Wonshik is packing up. He isn’t sure how to talk to Taekwoon, judging by the sounds and frustrated grunts he hears, he doesn’t seem like a fun character to interact that closely with. Sighing, he resumes packing his bookbag, slinging it over his shoulder and grabbing his cane.

His taps are heard through the school and he know the nicknames he gets from the entitled students who go to this school, which he effectively ignores in order to save himself from falling into a pit of depression. It’s not like he asked to be born like this. No one does. Being born with blindness prevents him from a lot of freedoms he wishes he has, like driving. But at the same time, it presents him with a keener ear, a stronger love for music and that’s something cannot be replaced.

As he walks out, Wonshik pauses in front of the classroom door where the piano is being played. He wonders if he could go in and apologize. _But how?_ Wonshik ponders over that, ignoring the running footsteps behind him.

“Move!” someone behind him shouts. Wonshik doesn’t react in time and gets barreled in by someone. The large and loud thump against the wooden door is enough for the piano to stop. The door opens and Wonshik groans, pushing the person off. He fumbles, looking for both his cane and sunglasses.

A large hand touches his and he flinches, startled. The hand guides him towards the cane first then his sunglasses. “Thanks,” he says.

“Y’welcome,” the voice says, and he’s surprised to learn how soft it is. But it’s raspy and strained, like it hasn’t been used in a while. “’M Taekwoon.”

“Wonshik.”

“Hyung!” the third voice says. “You really need to remember to wear your hearing aid!” Both men turn towards the sound, who is panting from running. “Hi,” he says, out of breath. “I’m Jaehwan, don’t mind – don’t give me that attitude!” Wonshik is taken aback, what attitude? But he soon realizes that it happens to be Taekwoon who is signing, probably in a sarcastic manner.

“He says that he’s sorry for not answering you yesterday, Wonshik,” Jaehwan says. “I know my hyung could be rude sometimes.”

“It’s okay,” Wonshik says, nodding towards Taekwoon. “I… I like your music, if you don’t mind, can I come and listen?”

“Yes.” Is the answer he receives and Wonshik can feel his heart fluttering, like a butterfly beating its wings, deep in his chest.

**-III-**

It has become a routine for Wonshik to come sit and listen to Taekwoon play. Wonshik likes how the elder (learning that Taekwoon is three years older than him) plays. It’s like listening to art, moving around in massive waves, enveloping him in a sickeningly sweet vine of music notes. He doesn’t know why, and he couldn’t explain how the music makes him feel, but all Wonshik knows is how at peace he feels.

He almost dozes off when the music ends, and papers shuffling is heard. Taekwoon grunts, grabbing Wonshik’s hand and writing something on the palm with his finger. ‘Time to go home’. Wonshik nods, grabbing his bookbag and cane. They walk in silence together, neither one of them sure on what to say. Wonshik isn’t sure if Taekwoon wore his hearing aid today.

“What’s the song called?” Wonshik finally asks. Taekwoon’s footsteps (light and airy, just like his voice) stops. Another grunt and Wonshik holds out his hand. “Ro-Ma-Nce… Is… O-ver? Romance is Over? Why?” The writing stops and Wonshik can feel sadness and regret radiating over the elder.

“I’m sorry.”

‘Don’t be.’

“But, I want to…”

‘It’s a portion of my life that I can’t… won’t think about anymore.’

“Okay.” They walk again, this time, Taekwoon holds onto Wonshik’s hand and he feels warmth coming down on him, like cleansing rain. It’s the different kind of warmth, the kind that you wish would stay with you for a long, long time. The kind that’s eternal and Wonshik wishes it’ll go on forever.

Even if forever doesn’t exist.

**-IV-**

The cold week sends Wonshik into a flu-stricken mess, with his coughs being dry and his nose being runny. Getting caught in the rain with no jacket and umbrella really does a number on a person like Wonshik. He gets sick easily, something Wonshik hates. He spends the day indoors and in bed, trying to get some sleep. Any sleep.  

He almost does when someone pounds on the front door, with a force so great, Wonshik fear that his door would break off from the hinges. Coughing, he wraps the blanket around himself and uses his hands to guide him to the front door. He’s thankful for the layout of his apartment (one floor, going in a straight line towards the front) and he opens the front.

“Can I help you?” he asks, coughing into his blanket. A grunt is the response that he gets, and a hand reaches out and grabs his.

‘Are you okay?’

“I’m dying, Hyung.” Wonshik coughs again, feeling his throat dry up. “Don’t come in, I don’t want to get you sick.” A click of annoyance is all he gets from Taekwoon and he writes ‘Okay, come back healed’ before the door closes. The warmth that Wonshik feels isn’t from his possibly fever anymore.

No, the heat that lies in his hands comes from Taekwoon and Wonshik couldn’t believe how fast he’s falling for someone he has never seen before. He waddles back to bed, throwing himself down and smiling like an idiot.

It sends fireballs into his stomach and chest and he wonder what’s the feeling he’s getting in his stomach. He wonders if Taekwoons feels the same way.

**-V-**

Wonshik begins to notice how Taekwoon is distancing himself after a month and a half into their friendship, it’s like he couldn’t stand Wonshik anymore. It starts off with Taekwoon disappearing sometimes during their afternoons together. Then, it leads to Taekwoon telling him not to come into the classroom anymore, and then finally, Taekwoon not walking home with him.

“What am I doing wrong hyung?” Wonshik asks Hakyeon one day after Taekwoon had blown him off for the sixth week in a row, with his head buried in his hands. “I thought…”

“Wonshikkie,” Hakyeon says, rubbing soothing circles on his shoulder blades. “Don’t worry about it.”

“How?” It’s been a few months since they met that faithful day in the classroom when he first heard Taekwoon play. “It hurts hyung. It really hurts.”

Hakyeon continues to rub circles. “He’ll explain it, I promise you he will.” Wonshik wishes Hakyeon wouldn’t lie to him like that, but he knows that he’ll fall for anything. He’ll fall for anything if it means getting hurt in the end, just to get his own happy ending.

**-VI-**

Taekwoon doesn’t talk to him for the next two weeks. And Wonshik can feel his heart shatter into pieces.

**-VII-**

Taekwoon doesn’t give him a reason for why he’s avoiding Wonshik when Wonshik confronts him. And that feels a wrecking ball slamming itself into his gut and he struggles to breathe. He really thought they had something, felt something.

He guesses he was wrong all along.

**-VIII-**

By week 16, Wonshik is dead from the rejection. It’s spoken loud and clear for him. By week 16, he decides to delete Taekwoon from his life and move on. Before he does, someone knocks on his door. He opens it to a very talkative and clearly excited Jaehwan. He talks too quickly for Wonshik to understand.

“Calm down please, hyung,” he says, holding out his hand and placing it on what he assumes to be Jaehwan’s head.

“Don’t touch my butt,” Jaehwan replies and Wonshik pulls his hands away. “Kidding, but you need to come with me. Like, right now.”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask, just do.” Wonshik gives him a face of curiosity and worry, but his nature for trying to understand and solve things come rearing its ugly head and he shrugs on a jacket and walks out. He holds onto Jaehwan’s arm, noting how the warmth he gets from Jaehwan isn’t the same as the warmth he gets from Taekwoon. Jaehwan is like fireworks, loud and excitable. Taekwoon is like a roaring bonfire, bold, loud and comforting.

That makes his heart hurt even more and the bitterness of rejection comes boiling up, stinging the back of his throat. He doesn’t understand how people could just disappear like that, as if he isn’t a person anymore. That hurts more than he thought it would.

As the pair walks, Jaehwan chatters a mile a minute about absolutely everything and nothing. He likes the comfort in someone talking but he also liked the comfort of someone writing softly on his hand, having the skin tickle his palms.

He likes the feeling of Taekwoon, that’s what Wonshik realizes. He blinks back any tears that he may have, wiping the strays when they escape. Swallowing down the painful feeling that he has in his stomach, he follows Jaehwan through the empty school.

“You’ll like this,” Jaehwan says. “Trust me.” Wonshik couldn’t but, he didn’t have a choice. So, he lets Jaehwan lead him into a room.

**-VIIII-**

It’s warm. The room feels warm from the radiant energy that explodes through. Wonshik can feel the lights that hangs above raining down, like liquid gold. He can feel the heat, the familiar heat that stands in the middle of the room. He’s about to turn away when the large hand reaches out and grasps ever so lightly on his wrist. There’s a quick message written on the palm of his hand.

‘I’m sorry… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.’

“Why didn’t you?”

‘I wanted it to be a surprise.’

“What?”

The air fills with a beautiful melody, and the air around them seem to swirl. It’s like Wonshik could see Taekwoon, standing in front of him, swaying as the lights dim down and the music – one that isn’t melancholic – fills the air. It’s sweet, it’s romantic, it’s like drowning in rose petals. Wonshik is thrown in a world of magic and happiness as he stumbles back and falls against Taekwoon’s sturdy chest.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

‘Don’t be. That’s the point of a surprise.’

“But—” He feels Taekwoon press something against his lips, silencing him. His hand slides down Wonshik’s arm and holds onto his hand, dragging him towards the middle of the floor. Wonshik wants to see what Taekwoon looks like, so he lifts his hands, running it from the middle of Taekwoon’s forehead down.

He touches the bridge of his nose, running his hands over the chubby yet soft cheeks of his. His thumbs gently brush over the feline like eyes, and finally, over the plush lips that the very end. He can see Taekwoon in his mind, though he cannot fathom hair or colour, he can still see, feel, breathe Taekwoon standing in front of him.

Wonshik presses his forehead in, leaning against Taekwoon’s.

“What are we?” he asks. _Do you love me?_

‘Us. Follow me, please?’ _I do. I love you._ Wonshik doesn’t have a choice in the matter. His mind says yes, and his heart says yes too.

**-X-**

Wonshik didn’t know that Taekwoon could dance (he finds out that those 16 weeks he spent away was because he wanted to learn how to dance from Hakyeon). He feels the older swaying, leading Wonshik around and around. He feels himself spinning. His dancing is rusty and by accident he steps on Taekwoon, twice. Taekwoon merely grunts and continues. Wonshik hasn’t felt euphoric in a long time.

Throughout the dance, Wonshik can feel hesitations coming from the elder. Wonshik doesn’t know what to do to make him feel comfortable. So, he does the very first thing that pops into his mind that makes him cringe; ask him if he could kiss Taekwoon.

Taekwoon stops, causing the latter to bump into him.

‘Why?’ _I want you to._

“Cause, I like you. I like you a lot.” _I love you._

There’s silence and Wonshik isn’t sure if he made a mistake. But he feels something against his lips. It’s soft and inviting, and he doesn’t mind it. Wonshik kisses back, trying to fight for dominance but it fails, Taekwoon holds him tight and close and he can feel so much warmth radiating off. It’s burning him alive; the passion, the fear, the regret, the love. Wonshik is sure that he’ll burst into flames if they stay any closer and the pain that he’s feeling isn’t treated.

But it doesn’t stop, it grows. Like fire, it licks the roof of the classroom and Wonshik feels Taekwoon’s tongue invade his space. Pressing him down and twirling him around. It’s dizzying, intoxicating and this man couldn’t express himself in words. Words are hard to use, but actions, Wonshik reads loud and clear. _I love you._

_I love you._ I love you.

He feels the growing need in his stomach, burning with severe desire. So needy and so painful, he is sure he’ll die if he doesn’t satisfy it.

“Can you…?” he asks, breaking away. He feels salvia running down his chin.

‘Will you be okay?’ Wonshik nods, holding Taekwoon’s hand and pressing it close to his own chest.

“Please do.”

‘Okay.’

**-XI-**

It hurts, that’s what Wonshik thinks when he feels something enter him. He winces, groaning a bit. Taekwoon writes something on his chest. ‘I’m sorry, do you want me to stop?’ Wonshik shakes his head, wrapping his arms around Taekwoon’s neck. He presses Taekwoon’s forehead into his. If he stops now… Wonshik isn’t sure what he’ll do.

“Keep going, please.” Taekwoon obeys, pushing in. Wonshik doesn’t know much about sex, it’s something he normally doesn’t think about. But he knows it’s nothing like what pornography depicts it as. It’s not something that clicks right away for everyone. Nor is it something rough where everything is peachy, and people aren’t screaming in pain.

He realizes that pornography doesn’t depict the emotions that ties in with sex, it doesn’t depict the romantic aspect of it. It’s just sex, it’s nothing special. So, why does he feel like this is something much more than having a casual fuck? Why is there this feeling of radiance that grows like the sun, pressing outwards?

It’s silent for the most part, he can hear himself groan whenever Taekwoon moves, filling the horrible silence. He can feel his body contract, spazzing from something that feels foreign and painful; yet, so pleasurable and so comforting. He can feel sweat sticking to his forehead as the motions of rocking grows erratic.

Wonshik feels something in the pit of his stomach grow and he isn’t fully sure what it is. It’s like butterflies, hitting the walls, over and over again. It’s pleasure. Somehow, a strangled moan escapes his mouth when Taekwoon hits somewhere that shoots waves of euphoria through his body.

‘Found it.’

“Foun—” He aims for there and the tidal waves begins. It’s massive, crashing down like a typhoon and Wonshik can feel everything he had felt come out and evaporating into thin air. His lungs burn and now, he’s sure that he’s dying. He presses his body against Taekwoon’s, who goes slow, willing himself down. It’s not only pleasurable, it’s like sending someone into heaven, repeatedly. His emotions run on a high, draining the younger till he could barely keep up. His head is buzzing and spinning, and he could only imagine what it’s like for Taekwoon.

Then the movements become erratic, they become frantic. As if both men know that they simply cannot last any longer, wait any longer. But, both seem to know they have all of forever to keep doing this if they so choose.

Wonshik feels himself come undone, unwinding like a ribbon on a present. He falls through the floor, sending his soul back down to earth and into his body. Taekwoon does the same, and he pulls out, falling to the side and dragging the younger one close to him. He holds his middle, pressing his nose into Wonshik’s neck.

‘Sorry.’

“Why?”

‘I took your virginity.’

“It isn’t like I didn’t want it.” Wonshik smiles, looking up at his ceiling. He imagines stars hanging from the top, draping down over them. “Will you stay?”

Taekwoon writes something on Wonshik’s stomach that makes him smile.

‘I will stay until the end of time.’

That’s all he could ever ask for.


End file.
